The Wheel Spins Again
by Mochrie-The Cat
Summary: This is a short story i submitted for the 2011 writing contest. Mostly for fun, seeing as i took alot of freedom and used characters that haven't been in too much focus. It's among the 1st things i finished writing, so it would be nice with some feedback.


**The Wheel Spins Again**

The empty soulless halls of the Black Temple lie vacant on the outskirts of the Shadowmoon Valley. The Ashtongue Deathsworn controls what is left of their temple now, though no progress has been made towards rebuilding, uncorrupting and populating their former home. Corruption still runs through their land, thick as lava, keeping them otherwise busy. Outside among the ruins of Karabor, the Broken Draenei Akama watches as a lone woman descends into the distance. There is somberness in the air, everything seems still. Not even the rumbling of thunder could be heard this day.

"May you finally find some peace of mind, young one." The elder sage whispers under his breath. A small flicker of anger, or disappointment cross his eyes before he quickly swirls away, leaving her image on the horizon behind him. A last though pass his mind. "_Your will might be your own, but forget why you have it and it might perish_."

Inside, the dust has cleared and the sunlight once again lick the stone halls of the Temple. Shadows driven to the corners and creaks of the mighty structure, the light is slowly bringing life back to The Temple of Karabor.

But below, in the darkness still untouched by life, a soul lingers. Stuck in a loop, with no time or reason, there is no rest. Who knows how far the world has moved on, if it`s even one to be found.

Now then, a break from the silence. A whisper. Though strong and vibrant, a voice that would tremble these very halls if only raised just a little. "Teron Gorefiend, my champion. "A soft whisper remeniscent of a mother cradling her child. But a steady gush of wind appears seemingly out of nowhere as the whispers rise. "Yet another body of yours lay rotting on the battlefield, how many do you have to spend!" The now booming voice crackling with anger, the soft whisper there not long ago, vanished along with the stillness of the chamber, now in full motion as whirling winds and sparkling light fills the vast space.

"Is this become of you?" "For this, that traitorous madman brought you back!" As the chaos surrounding the chamber dies out, no response can be heard. The voice withdraws, no longer booming, but somber. "I remember you came to me in my darkest hour, when all hope for our race was asunder." "We survived on your deeds, you forged our future!" Shrieks fading in and out now appear throughout the chamber. "Others may not know, but i do!" "And believe me, i haven't forgotten." The voice utters almost gleefully.

"Is that you Ner'Zhul?" A response. A stark metallic voice appears, though almost gurgling the words as they come to. "Yes Gorefiend, it is I." He responds assuring. "You dare speak to me now!" "You abandoned us here on this burning rock!" The lingering spirits voice now burning with hatred. Every word spat out with disgust. "Calm yourself, my champion." The voice responds, his voice low and steady, though clearly hiding anger. "You want me calm." The spirit spits back. "Please." He pleads.

For a while there is silence. "You cannot comprehend what i saw atop the summit." He explains. "I was within the reach of my demise, but through the rift before me, i saw more power than i could ever imagine." "I saw opportunities." His voice now filled with a sort of gleeful burst. "For yourself?" Gorefiend snickers. "No! For our people!" Ner'Zhul exclaims back. "So what did you see?" The metallic voice urges. "I saw something, it spoke to me..."

Animos

The sun shines on Stormwind. The districts are filled with life, merchants going about their business, the taverns filled with adventurers from all over Azeroth and down by the harbor, ships are docking, having recently returned from across the sea.

In the courtyard of the large Stormwind Keep, the young prince Anduin Wrynn is listening intently to his arms trainer Woo Ping, instructing him on how to block an incoming blow. But their training is not going as well as his father, King Varian had hoped for. The young prince learned slowly, was often out of place and clumsy with the sword. Considerable time had been put into training the boy, but this slow pace and unnerving lack of skill angered the King. More so than he would have though himself, though it might be pressure and stress causing this anger towards his son.

They had spent hours in the courtyard, and today's lessons were over. With no other obligations this evening, the young prince was free to spend his time within the castle, though he required an escort if he were to walk the city. In his chamber, he spent his a lot of his time reading. Unknown to most around him, he had developed an interest for reading, diplomatic measures and perhaps most of all, the Holy Light. Over time, he had found himself idolizing legends such as Archbishop Alonsus Faol and Uther the Lightbringer. It was through their example and their symbol that he had recently come to his own terms with his choice to take the path into priesthood. But taking such a choice had not been an easy decision, and he had not found it in him to tell his father, fearing his father response and the shame for not following his footsteps, if there was any. But lately he had been dreaming, and he had a feeling they were important and could mean a lot, if he only followed them.

Negotium

Time seems unmoved, minutes; hours have gone by as the two ethereal beings engage in heated arguments. "So then, entombed and defeated you lie atop the frozen roof of the world, what do you want of me?" The stark metallic voice of Teron Gorefiend asks, sounding rather intrigued. "What remaining powers still within my control, i pass to you." Ner'Zhul whispered as his tone heightened. "Walk this world again, find your way to my icy domain, and free me!" The voice now booming through the chamber once more. A slight notion of desperation hidden behind the powerful beings request. "What then?" The Death Knight questions. "Together, my champion, we reforge the Horde." Though convinced, most likely for a lack of other options, he would not resist the urge to ask; "How?" A horrid chuckling soars across the chamber. "Soon enough, you will see what i have seen my friend, soon enough."

Outside, the Ashtongue Deathsworn patrols the upper ruins as the sky above them turns, thunder rolling in from under the clouds. An unusual occurrence. The skies had only turned red twice in recent history, and with this happening once more, chaos erupted among the broken draenei in the ruins below. Standing alone amidst them, the Elder Sage Akama stands chilled, staring up at the skies above him. In deep thought, his subordinate Kanai is unable to get his attention, thus having to try coordinating his brethren without his aid.

Behind them, atop the summit, a gleaming stream of light is amassing and a low eerie humming sound is being carried under the sound of the storm happening around it. Looking into the center of the chaos, Akama could vaguely hear something, a voice, several. He could sense anger, a discussion perhaps, or an argument.

_Avaritia_

Teron Gorefiend had always had power, either his honed skills in necromancy or the immense power he wielded in death. But this; this was power he had never felt before. He had seen what Ner'Zhul had seen, his life, his people, as well as the same visions Ner'Zhul had once seen himself. He now knew everything he had ever known. With this newly acquired knowledge, his bodily remains restored and a reason to walk this world again, he could see more clearly than ever, he could see possibilities.

The storm had passed, lasting an hour, maybe two. The ruins outside lies seemingly empty, at least by what the eye could tell. Scattered among the buildings still intact, the Ashtongue Deathsworn lie in anticipation, their defensive positions form a perfect square overlooking the surrounding area. But they wait only in vain. It appears as though nothing has happened. The skies didn't open up, their land wasn't shattered and the world didn't tremble as it had before.

Stepping out into the center of the ruins, the Elder Sage looked troubled, though the feeling of relief filled the faces of his brethren, scoured around him. Wise beyond his years, Akama sensed something he had sensed before. Something evil.

He could feel it was close, and it was increasing now. Increasing to the point that his brethren around him could feel it as well. For a short moment, fear spread through the troops before they gathered themselves and formed into their default defense stance. But their quick tactical maneuvers as well as wit proved unsuccessful as the hub of their force was incapacitated within seconds.

His fellow brothers falling to the ground around him, Akama could see a figure appear among the shadows of the ruins. Moving fast, the Elder Sage lost track of the cloaked figure, feeling faint himself. Then it was over. As fast as it had appeared, it was gone. Akama himself was brought to his knees, having to take a moment to gather his strength before he stood up, looking around at his brothers also getting to their feet, as well as scouting the area for the figure he saw moments ago.

But there was nothing. The confrontation itself had lasted for less than a minute. But he knew what he had seen; he had memories of this creature. He knew, without a doubt, that this was yet another serious problem in an already troubled world. But it left them unaffected. Wanting only to leave this place, there was nothing he or his men could do now. This was a threat for someone else, and he hoped it would not return to him. That it would be resolved. Standing on the edge of the plateau, his men gathering themselves behind him, the Elder Sage proclaims softly under his breath. "Teron Gorefiend walks again, death itself has returned."

Sol in tenebras

Weeks had gone by since Teron Gorefiend once again found himself walking among the living on Draenor, and he had left Shadowmoon Valley behind him. In fact, he had scoured all of Outland. In search of something. Ner'Zhul's voice may no longer linger within, but Gorefiend was in no need of instructions. Just as Ner'Zhul knew, so now did Gorefiend, and he would be using every opportunity he could. He had been searching Outland for an old friend of Ner'Zhul, the great ogre-magi known as Dentarg. Neither of them knew what had become of Dentarg or of his fate, but following Gorefiend's search one could only assume he was no longer around.

He had thoroughly searched the greater area of Terokkar Forest and Nagrand in search of an orc Ner'Zhul swore he had heard whispers of a long time ago. Unsure if Ner'Zhul's memory was correct, he had nevertheless failed to find any clue to this claim. Feeling he had now wasted a lot of time for nothing, Gorefiend was furious, for he had found no trace of a Doomhammer.

But soon he had already moved on, finding himself in the cracked lands of the grand Hellfire Peninsula, with its human settlement, Honor Hold standing before the Dark Portal itself. He had business in this place; A score to settle.

As the night crept over the keep, the death knight had no problem sneaking into the settlement even though it was lit up by the moons and well-guarded. Sensing every soul within the encampment, he knew exactly where to find who he was looking for. In the dark back alley of the gloomy inn, a lone two windows are lighted up. But he has no interest in these windows. The dark window in the corner however, he strode towards. He could feel the presence of a certain man inside. A man he had never met.

Somnians

Stormwind city. Fires are spread throughout the city, battles occur all over and there is complete chaos. The city appears to be under siege. Finding himself amidst the chaos is the young prince Anduin Wrynn, seemingly oblivious to what is happening around him. Defenders and city guards are pushing the attackers back, blocking their entrance to the Cathedral Square, though stragglers appear here and there. Guarding the gates to the Cathedral itself, are its denizens.

Duthorian Rall stands at the stairs of the Cathedral of Light; in his hands he holds a large powerful mace. The opposing force pushed back, he merely stands at attention, scouting for possible stragglers or huge clusters making their way through the defenses. "My lord!" A female voice yells towards the prince. Anduin looks distressed around, unsure about where the voice came from. "My lord, Anduin!" From behind the others guarding the Cathedral entrance, High Priestess Laurena called out to the young prince. Anduin saw her and quickly started sprinting towards her. "Come here my child." She spoke as he approached her. But something was wrong. Her voice was different; very different. He stopped abruptly.

Behind the beautiful High Priestess he saw a figure cloaked in black. From within its cloaked face, he could only see a couple of red gleaming eyes. They were staring at him. "Anduin, please." Laurena pleaded. Slowly, he backed away from them, until his feet hit the fountain behind him. "_This cannot be real_." He thought to himself. But laughter clouded his thoughts, a metallic, almost gurgling laughter. It eventually spoke to him; he could clearly hear it, as if it was in his mind. "Awake, Anduin Wrynn, we'll see if your truly a worthy son of your father!"

He then awoke in his chambers, gasping loudly. Drenched in sweat, he sat up in his bed, taking a moment to gather himself as he was shaking. His chamber was dark, all the candles scattered around the room had died out. Perhaps it was the wind at work. He hurried to relight them, as he found himself uncomfortable in the darkness. He would not sleep tonight.

Ueteres Hostes

A crimson skyline is drawn over a large battlefield; there is something eerie in the air. In the middle of the heated battle, a young elf is kneeling before the body of a man, tears streaming down his cheeks. The two of them seem almost unmoved by the clashing happening around them, as if it's not even there. The man is gasping for air, he is injured, his body wholly crushed. His eyes set on the young elf, he whispers something. And though the elf cannot hear his voice, watching the man lips move, he can hear a phrase loudly in his head: _"Where is your father!". _The crimson skyline quickly begins to turn, the elf finding himself all alone, the man before him vanished along with everything else. The skyline covering the field around him fades away, as he is engulfed by total darkness, the loud screeching noise of a terrified soul screams within his ears.

But then it ends. Awoken by his own screams, Arathor the Redeemer sits up from his cot, covered in sweat, his hands clambering to the railings of the bed on both sides. His room is dark, only the moonshine through the window lights up some of the floor. It wasn't a big room, only a bed in the corner, a table with two chairs and a dresser in the other corner of the room. He had shed the blanket covering him in the bed during the night and it now lay on the floor beside the cot. He fell back into the bed again from his seated position, his head hitting the soft pillow as he let out a short sigh. Wearing a gown made out of embersilk, he silently laid there for a couple of minutes, trying to take in what he had just experienced.

But he felt at unease. He felt eyes on him, feeling that he was not alone. Hiding the fact the he was now aware, his eyes slowly scanned the room for anyone or anything. Though a small room, it was still too dark to see all the way to the edge of the other wall. But sitting on one of the two chairs by the table along the wall, the young elf could barely make out a figure cloaked in black. Finding himself in sudden distress he prepared himself to jump to the floor and quickly go for his weapon, hilted on a hook on the door. But he could not move a muscle, nor could he speak.

For a moment he just lay there, watching the shadow on the other side of the dark room. Whatever it was, it weren't looking back at him. But it didn't take too long until the figure moved its cloaked hood and stared right back at him. Frightened, Arathor wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Its glowing red eyes were burning in his mind. As if it could read what he was thinking. "_Did you sleep well, Arathor?_" The creature did not speak to him. Rather, he could hear it in his head. "_Who are you?_" Finding himself unable to speak, he chose to reply to him in his mind, hoping he could communicate. "_Never you mind that, half elf. Where is your father?_" Apparently, they could communicate well, though the creature was not a civil conversationist and sounded rather hostile. "_My, my father_?" The young elf stammered. "_I haven't seen my father since i was a young boy._"

The creature doesn't respond. For a while it just sits in the darkness, its glowing red eyes fixed upon the elf lying motionless on the bed. After a while, the creature raises itself up from the chair, walking towards the elf and halts one step before the bed. Eyeing the window on the left, it raised its hand toward the elf in a gesture. "Stay." This time Arathor could not hear the voice within his head, but from the very mouth of the beast. The very sound of its voice was horrible. Sounding like the word was gurgled out and spat with disgust.

Moments later, he found himself alone in the room. At last able to move his own body again, he jumped to his feet and sprinted for the window. But outside, there was nothing. The mere seconds it took for the elf regain himself and sprint for the window seemed to be enough. The creature was already vanished without a trace, alerting none of the guards patrolling outside.

Minutes had gone by and the large keep of Honor Hold could only be seen in the distance as Teron Gorefiend already had taken quite a leap from the settlement and towards the Dark Portal. Behind him, the alarm at Honor Hold had surely been sounded and they were searching for him. They would find nothing though, as Gorefiend would be through the portal and on into Azeroth in short time.

Macula nigra in sole

Months later, as Gorefiend's presence has begun to make itself known, rumors of who or what it might be is spreading.

In the back gardens of the Stormwind keep, King Varian has assembled his officers and advisors on this warm, sunny afternoon. Spread around their king, sitting on benches, a casual discussion about this new possible threat is growing. Among them were High General Marcus Jonathan, High Sorcerer Andromath, Duthorian Rall, Terran "Justice" Gregory and High Priestess Laurena. At one point, one of King Varian's royal guards approaches them with the message of someone seeking an audience with the king.

At the king's approval, a lone person is guided through the gardens by the guards. Following loyally behind them is a tiger, seemingly from the far off reaches of Winterspring. It would appear this person is a beast master. As the person approaches and stops before the King and his council, they get a good glance at this beast master. A tall slender female; a draenei, with long and wavy brown hair. Sporting beautiful features and slick armor draped across her figure, her racial horns crown the very top of her head.

"Cillian, of the Ammen Vale, your highness." She introduces herself. "Greetings draenei, you come seeking my audience?" The king replies, as he raises himself from his seat. The council around him keeps their eyes locked upon her, though not gazing.

None of them seem too anticipated about what this dreanei has to say. High Priestess Laurena was intrigued though, by this character that stood before them, sensing she had experienced a lot despite her young age.

The High Priestess was a kind spirited woman with quite a cute smile, and though she is among the youngest members of the Cathedral of Light, she is one of the most devoted among them. She is very clearly a right successor to the ill-fated Archbishop Bendictus, and preparations for the announcement and ceremony for her appointment are surely already being made.

"I know what this meeting concerns." She replies. "Rumors of a shadow which creeps across Azeroth; under the cover of darkness." The whole council has her full attention now, eyebrows being raised, heads tilted. "How do you know this?" Rall, the revered paladin exclaims. "I have met this creature before, on the battlefield."

She glances around as she continues. "Years ago i found myself in the company of some of the finest heroes i have had the pleasure of meeting." "On the ashen covered fields of Shadowmoon Valley, in the shattered world of Draenor, i charged alongside my allies as we laid siege to the final bastion of The Betrayer." The beast master is now faced with eyes full of awe and respect as the people around her awaits her every word.

"In the heat of the battle, we encountered a creature." "Hooded and heavily robed, it looked human, but it sure did not feel human. Only the gleaming red eyes visible from within its hood, it was evil incarnate." The woman's voice cracking up slightly as she explains herself. Taking a deep breath, she continues. "But we slew him that day, leaving his remains for the shadows below." Her voice filled with confidence in that belief.

"Some things are hard to kill." Gregory replied. The pious paladin who had received his nickname "Justice" because of his devoutness was wearing his Judgement armor set, despite the warm summer day. He was known for wearing this piece of armor, and rarely wore other equipment. For some time now he had been with the Church of the Holy Light in Stormwind as well as a confident to the King. It was only natural that he would attend this meeting. "Indeed." King Wrynn agreed across from him.

The meeting goes on for about an hour, though the draenei adventurer took her leave long before it was over. Though no immediate action was taken towards the issue, as other threats are currently taking up valuable time, there were actions taken towards it. Among them were heightened security, informing the public and sending messengers to other alliance settlements throughout the Kingdom of Stormwind as well as the regions of Lordaron. Maybe others will have time to set out and investigate this issue. But for now, it lies still.

_Industria_

Under the cover of the windy desert, Teron Gorefiend is almost completely engulfed by the surrounding dust winds and can barely be seen as a shadowy cloaked figure as he stands before the Gates of Ahn'Qiraj. His glowing red eyes are gleaming clearly in the distance. He stands on this spot for a long time, with the wind rustling around him and the humming of silithid in the distance. Eventually he hears whispers of an old, yet powerful kaldorei. Whispers of a name; _Kar'sis_.

He had traveled far and without caution to get to where he was now. His enthusiasm for the challenge in front of him and his newly found power had uttered him careless. Seeing the people of this world distracted by their world shattering and the return of Deathwing, he used the opportunity to gain considerable headway on his travels, by not clinging to the shadows. And it had cast its price.

Rumors of his existence had already taken flight and he would now slow down, taking his next steps with caution. But he needn't worry about that now, for he had made his way to the ancient land of Silithus. A desolate place, where word carried slow and the heat could choke the words from the throat before ever being said.

Visions of this old land had slithered into his mind, tugging at his curiosity. Just as Ner'Zhul knew of the lost, corrupted souls wandering the sands of this desert, so now did Gorefiend. And it was here, under the heating sun, that he would set his plan into action. The task ahead of him was a though one, one he could not do alone.

He could sense plenty of weak minds in this world, but he could not rely on mere minions who would foil his plans. Powerful allies are what he was in need of. Already finding his way towards some of them now, all that was left to do was convince them.

He had wandered the abandoned ruins of Ahn'Qiraj for long, finding very little of interest. Though among the ruins, a small band of humans and night elves had made their settlement. Leading them is Lieutenant General Andorov, a small stout man, bald and muscled. Gorefiend had felt this man's presence in the desert, feeling that he had been in it for too long, he would try to persuade this man into his control.

At night he would strike. Leaving behind him only the body of the night watchman, he made his way to the Lieutenant General's tent. Seating himself beside his cot; he preceded to enter the dreams of the war weary man.

Outside the moon was glowing, the otherwise hot desert was cool. Nightlife was crawling over the sands of the desert, small scorpions and beetles going about their routine.

From far away the humming of sillithid could be heard, and the wind carries the noise emerging from the hives all over the desert.

In the morning hours, the other members of the encampment are awoken by a horrible scream. Quickly getting to their feet, they run to gather outside Andorov's tent. The Lieutenant General had proved to be too powerful to corrupt, and his loyalty to the Circle was still strong. Finding it in himself to escape his slumber, he woke with a shriek and barely had time to react further as the shadow beside him stroke him in the throat.

The men outside the tent were shackled in fear, waiting for whatever was inside that tent now, to emerge. Towering over the body of the slain man, blood spilling to the ground, Teron turns, slightly opening the fold of the tent and peers out. "_Defined and driven by fear_." A metallic voice whispers to the men outside. Almost laughing, it sends a chill down their spine.

Seconds later, the whole pack of men are force choked and lifted from the ground as Gorefiend emerges from the tent. Enjoying the terrified looks of horror and fear in their eyes, he proceeds to strangulate them. As the cloaked creature leaves the encampment behind, only a single campfire is lit, soon to burn out. Fitting, as the last breath of life has left this place.

Gorefiend did not waste any time. Within a few hours he was standing before Cenarion Hold waiting for nightfall to come. Here he had come to find another damned soul, and he had a feeling he would leave this desert with a powerful ally in his roster.

Vindicta

But within the desert that surrounds Cenarion Hold, there is another lost soul, this one out seeking a new purpose. Within the outskirts of the old major night elf settlement, Maiev Shadowsong had made her campfire.

She had spent weeks tracking down the creature she had received word of and it had all led her here, to this ancient night elven place, now swallowed by its own land and forgotten by time.

The warden could freely walk straight into Cenarion Hold if she wanted to, if anyone were to recognize her, it would be as the heroic statue she was known as, not the vengeance driven warmonger she thought herself now. But she wouldn't, she would keep to the shadows, watching from afar.

_Cornered, _the warden had thought the creature to be. Waiting only for it to make a move out into the open, where she could get him. But she would have to wait long, the entire night went by and dawn was rising before it was finally on the move.

Lunae Lumen

"No need hiding in the shadows, orc." Sounded a voice from the balcony above. Heeding the call, Gorefiend stepped into the moonlight and glared at the night elf standing above him. "You see much, demon hunter." Quickly scaling the balcony, he now stood next to the tall, armor-clad night elf leaning on the railing, peering outward into the desert. "Some things i see better than others." The elf replied in a raspy voice.

Vish Kozus was an old, weary night elf. Having been born about 2 thousand years after the Great Sundering, he had seen many millennia's pass by. Having been tempted by the dark magic's long ago, he had eventually found himself under the tutelage of the demon hunter Kvaalen Han, though he had long since ended his life. Kozus himself had found redemption through a wise druid he had known briefly before he shunned himself from his society and walked this lonely path towards darkness.

This druid was no other than the Archdruid, Fandral Staghelm. The Archdruid had helped him regain his dignity, and from there and then he had served the druid as his most trusted Lieutenant through many wars. But his last war, The War of the Shifting Sands, was their last collaboration. At the end of the war, Staghelm was a changed man. The loss of his son had shattered his view on the world, and on Kozus as well. Being reminded of all the darkness in this world whenever he saw his blindfolded face, he ordered him to remain in Silithus, acting as the captain of the guard. Sensing the pain within the druid, he obliged without objection.

But time will eventually change everyone. And though the old warrior has proved reliable, he had always leaned on the support of his old friend Fandral Staghelm, as trust is hard to earn and forgiveness, is a long damn road. But now he was alone, the Archdruid had betrayed all he ever stood for, and what comfort he had gained from him long gone.

"Any incident now and they are likely to shun you again." The death knight said silently after a while, almost whispering. "I'm aware, orc. And i assume you are here to persuade me to leave with you." The ancient night elf calmly responded, doing nothing to lower his voice. "Indeed, demon hunter, it's time you make your own fortune in this world." He smiled, revealing rotten teeth from within his hood. "And i need you to do this then?"

Gorefiend realized he had already made his decision and he turned to the elf, his gleaming red eyes piercing him as he first now got a good look at the creature before him. "You do Vish, for i know of your desires; and even how you will achieve them." Beneath his hood he could tell the death knight was smiling, his decaying face filled with glee.

Novus Initium

Winter had come and gone. Gorefiend had traveled the world of Azeroth, keeping to the shadows, seeking out his remaining acquaintances. He had been careful now, not making any waves. Leaving Kalimdor behind, he now found himself in the Eastern Kingdoms, overlooking the human capital of Stormwind. It was here his plan would make or break, caution would be necessary, now more than ever.

Within the well-guarded keep the human prince Anduin Wrynn is sleeping in his chamber, candles lighting up the large room and giving it a cozy gloom. Outside in the hallway, guards are stationed at his door while others patrol the remaining hallway as well as the rest of the keep. The only possible entry to the prince would be from above, entering through the balcony.

Gorefiend knew this well, and he would find no challenge in entering the young man's chamber. Sitting atop the hills surrounding Stormwind City, he watched the sky for a while, until finally a figure appeared under the light of the stars. As it approached him, it grew in scale, looking more and more menacing and a seemingly deadly threat. A great black dragon.

The ground shook as the great beast landed in the hills. Standing face to face with the dragon, Gorefiend chuckled as he thought of how his connection to the black dragonflight could be persuaded into this usage.

Under the cover of night, Gorefiend entered the large cozy chamber, his ride maneuvering the flight patrols across the city. Inside, the candles died out as the death knight slowly walked across the floor, his black drape dragging against the cold marble floor. He kneeled down beside the bed of the young prince, putting his outreached hand on his chest. The boy awoke in an instant, but he was held down by the creature, unable to move himself. Terror stroke him, and his eyes filled with fear.

He was silenced. Feeling tired and dazed, he could not find the strength to scream out for help. "Hello, young Anduin Wrynn." The creature before him uttered. Its voice scared the young boy, sending chills down his spine. "You have seen me before, have you not?" He questioned. But the boy did not answer. "I know you have Prince, for i have been with you for a long time now."

He arose from the floor and walked to the bedpost, leaving the boy to move freely. "What are you?" The young boy stuttered. "I have seen you in my dreams." The death knight stared at the boy. "I am here to help you find your path in this world. I have seen what power you could possibly one day hold, and i am here to make sure you make the right choices." Anduin Wrynn now sat up in his bed, studying the creature. Still frightened, but calm. "No." The young prince exclaimed. "No?" Gorefiend returned in anger.

Seconds later, screams shrieked from inside the chamber and the guards outside quickly entered to the aid of their price. But inside they found nothing other than the young prince. Sitting upright in his bed, covered in sweat, he looked terrified. "My lord, is everything alright?" One of the guards hastily asked. "I think, i think i had a nightmare." Anduin answered after regaining his breath. "Only a nightmare."

Continuari

Teron Gorefiend's plan of corrupting the young crown prince of Stormwind may have gone awry, but he had expected such a result. Already he was on the move, making his way to the kingdom of Lordaron. On the back of his newly acquired ally, he would make haste, crossing the land with great speed. He would make contact with the remainder of the Cult of the Damned spread across Lordaron, as well as numerous people he would corrupt. Among them was Renthar Hawkspear, whom Gorefiend had great expectations for.

But chasing at his heels was a warden, a problem he would have to deal with sooner or later. Or rather, an opportunity, as Gorefiend liked to think of it.

For now, he would scour Lordaron, recruiting for his cause, then turn towards Northrend. There he would find the Archlich. For he would need the help of the powerful Kel'Thuzad to free the imprisoned Ner'Zhul from his icy shackles. He had seen it; the Archlich would be the key. It was destined.

**Disclaimer: Warcraft belongs to Blizzard**


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